A Different Path
by Doomflower84
Summary: Just about as A.U. as it gets...Based on what could have happened if Lady Nafia had been killed in Dragon Bone Valley and the twins encountered each other in Asheeda forest. Lots of violence, mental and physical torture, eventual yaoi and twincest ADULT
1. Blood and Snowflakes

Title: Blood and Snowflakes  
Warnings: Just about as A.U. as it gets...Based on what could have happened if Lady Nafia had been killed in Dragon Bone Valley and the twins encountered each other in Asheeda forest. Lots of violence, mental and physical torture, eventual yaoi and twincest ADULT MATERIAL!!!  
Summary: Lady Nafia is killed by Drakyr and Kharg becomes somewhat...unbalanced.  
A.N. I can only appologise for the horrible things I'm about to do to the characters, and trust me, it will be horrible. I came up with this five years ago and I'm using that as my excuse... I do it out of love, really I do. I just sometimes have a very unconventional way of showing my affection....also, the deimos and humans don't speak the same language in this...it just makes more sense that way

Disclaimer: the characters do not belong to me...it's probably just as well o_O I mke no profit from this

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Kharg attempted to hide his impatience as he waited for Ganz to complete the repairs to the airship. Though he was feeling somewhat ambivalent about their forthcoming journey to the continent of Aldrow, he could not deny that the most prevalent emotion he was experiencing was excited anticipation. He felt a deep sense of love and commitment towards the country of his birth and was prepared to sacrifice anything for the good of his people, yet there was a part of him that could not help feeling somewhat...stifled.

There was a lot riding on his shoulders, he knew the people of Nidellia viewed him as their shining light, someone in whom they could trust to protect them and to continue to lead their country to greatness; he had felt this more acutely than ever since the tragic death of Lloyd, the former Commander of the Defence Corps and the closest thing he ever had to a father. He fully intended to embrace the responsibilities bestowed upon him and would do so with the grace and vigour expected of a member of the former royal family, yet sometimes he would catch himself wondering whether his thoughts were truly his own or merely the product of what others expected of him.

Pushing the uncomfortable thought away, Kharg glanced over at the mysterious stranger who had facilitated his opportunity to escape Nidellia and the stifling press of responsibilities it represented, at least for a little while. Although escorting this girl, Lilia, to the World Alliance in Cathena was yet another thing he felt obligated to do, not just because it was what his mother had requested but also because to leave her to continue her mission alone would have been wrong and unjust, this particular obligation held about it an air of excitement as it extended the promise of experiencing an exotic land he had never visited before, one that seemed so very far beyond the world he knew.

'How're the repairs coming?' He questioned Ganz as casually as he could.

'Almost done,' the large ex-mercenary responded without looking up.

'OK. Thanks again for doing this for us, we're really grateful,' Kharg smiled his practiced smile.

'Kharg!' Lilia called out from her position near the windows, 'isn't that Lady Nafia out there?'

'Hmm?' The former prince frowned, wondering if he had heard her correctly.

He knew his mother was familiar with the area, she had spent an unusual amount of time visiting Dragon Bone Valley when he was younger, but over the last few years her visits had seemed to dwindle away to nothing. He had thought this was due to the fact that the threat from the deimos was ever increasing and she had decided it was too dangerous to attempt the journey anymore, a sentiment that Kharg himself shared.

'I guess she must have come to see us off,' he mused aloud as he glanced out of the window and ascertained that the figure Lilia had seen was indeed his mother, 'I better go out there and say goodbye, I'll be back shortly.'

Turning his back on his companions, he quickly strode through the exit and into the biting cold of Dragon Bone Valley. Wrapping his arms around himself to keep off the chill and blinking furiously in an attempt to shift the snowflakes that had settled on his lashes, Kharg made his way towards the approaching figure of Lady Nafia.

'Mother,' Kharg greeted, a slight tone of concern colouring his voice, 'you didn't need to come all the way out here just to see us off. This is Drakyr territory, it isn't safe.'

'Don't worry about me,' she smiled warmly, dismissing her son's concerns, 'I know a route that even the Drakyr are unaware of.'

'Then how do _you_ know about it?' the blond questioned, his curiosity piqued.

There was so much about his mother that he didn't know. On the one hand, she was the gentle, loving woman he had known all his life, the woman who had instructed him on how to live a just and valiant existence. Yet, the townspeople of Yewbell had often regaled him with stories of the strength and bravery she had displayed during her youth, even referring to her as the Warrior-Queen. There was also the added mystery of the journey she had been on before he was born, on which she had met his father and about which he knew almost nothing.

'Don't worry about that now,' Nafia brushed aside his question as she always did when she accidently let some intriguing particle of information slip, 'I just wanted to tell you...I wanted to let you know how proud I am of you, and how proud your father Windalf would have been if he could see you now.'

'My father?' the blond replied, his slightly perplexed expression quickly transmuting into one of shock. His mother rarely ever made mention of his father voluntarily.

'Yes, he would have been so proud of you, Kharg,' Nafia repeated, a wistful expression stealing across her face.

'Mother, I know it's still hard for you to think of him but...can't you tell me something about him, anything?' the former prince requested, taking his mother's hand.

'It's freezing and you have a duty to fulfil, this isn't the time or place,' she replied, averting her eyes.

'It's never the time or place,' Kharg turned away from her abruptly, attempting to avoid sounding petulant. It would be unseemly of him.

'Kharg, I promise, when you come back I'll...we'll talk then. I suppose you're old enough to know now.'

Eyes widening at the unexpected words, Kharg spun around to face his mother once more. It was then that he saw the small group of Drakyr descending from the sky behind her. The former prince had always found he was able to sense the presence of those around him, particularly hostile parties, and had discovered this to be invaluable to him during battle. He was mortified now that his senses had failed him, blanketed by the snow and the heightened emotions that the unexpected conversation with his mother had provoked in him. Taken off-guard as he was, the spell invoked by one of the Drakyr hit him with full force before he had the chance to react, sending him flying though the air and crashing to the ground some distance away, his breath wrenched painfully from his body.

Dazed, he looked up in time to see the small group of Drakyr descend on his mother, heard them making the rough, guttural noises that were, he supposed, the deimos' rudimentary form of communication before his mother fell to her knees.

'Get the hell away from her, deimos bastards!' he cried, pulling himself to his feet and drawing his sword.

Snarling viciously, Kharg launched himself at the band of deimos, his fury so intense that he was barely aware of what he was doing or that his companions were already making their hasty way towards him, ready to join in the fray. Lashing out fiercely with his sword, he effortlessly ran his first opponent through, crimson jets of blood splattering his face and clothes as he pulled his blade from the already dying body of the Drakyr.

He bought his weapon down in a swooping, deadly arc faster than his vision could keep up with and as his second opponent lay maimed on the floor, he thrust the blade through the fallen Drakyr's chest, ensuring its speedy elimination. One arrow, quickly followed by another, impaled itself in the third deimos' torso as Maru came into range, causing it to drop to its knees. Before he had even registered what he was doing, Kharg bought the finely-honed edge of his sword down once more with a blow that contained all of his strength, swiftly decapitating the Drakyr, its head flying off into the snow as the lifeless body dropped to the ground.

As he stood among the carnage, his eyes fell on the fallen form of Lady Nafia, her body curled in on itself, huddled on the frozen ground. It was then that he saw the bright crimson stain which stood out in such sharp contrast to the brilliant white of the snow on which she lay, a stain that was steadily growing as he watched. Rushing to her side, Kharg knelt beside his mother and pulled her into his arms.

'How badly are you hurt?' he questioned before shouting over his shoulder, 'Paulette, Maru, someone! I need help!'

'Kharg...' His mother spoke with difficulty, her voice coming out rasping and wet. Kharg felt the blood freeze in his veins at the sound and, looking down, saw exactly where the blood was coming from. A long and gaping wound ran the length of Lady Nafia's throat.

'No!' Kharg cried, wanting desperately to save her even as he realised that whatever he did now could never be enough.

'Your father...Windalf...Drakyr,' Lady Nafia gasped before slumping forwards, her body a dead weight in the former prince's arms.

As the last of his mother's life drained out of her, Kharg threw his head back as a loud, wrenching roar of pain tore through his body and echoed through the snow-smothered valley.

******

Kharg could not remember the journey back to Yewbell. He vaguely recalled Paulette crying and someone calling his name as they shook him by the shoulders, attempting to get him to stand and to release his grip on the rapidly cooling body of his mother, yet these things seemed strangely removed from him, as though they had happened to someone else and he had been watching them through a veil of thick fog.

Even the funeral seemed to pass him by in a blur. Following his initial display of fierce emotion in Dragon Bone Valley as he held the dying Lady Nafia in his arms, he had fought to contain his feelings inside himself, only too aware of the affect his mother's death would have on his people. She may have no longer held the title of Queen, but to the people of Nidellia that is what she was, and her brutal slaying had left the entire nation in mourning. They needed someone they could rely on and look up to, someone who could be their rock during this time of turmoil, and Kharg would rise to the challenge. It didn't matter that inside he was even more wretched and broken than the rest of them, he had been bought up to put the needs of others before his own and that is exactly what he would do; it was what his mother would have wanted.

As the crowds gradually drifted away and only the former prince and his four companions remained beside the freshly-dug grave, Kharg turned to them whilst pushing his dishevelled hair from his eyes.

'OK, I suggest we all get some rest. First thing tomorrow we're heading to Aldrow.'

'Kharg,' Lilia spoke softly, her voice filled with concern, 'It's been just twenty-four hours since...you don't have to do this. I've caused you so much trouble as it is, it would be better if I go to Cathena alone.'

'Don't be ridiculous,' Kharg retorted, his voice coming out harsher than he had intended, 'you need our help, I'm not about to turn my back on you now.'

'But Kharg...' the girl began again.

'Come on, it's been a long day,' the blond abruptly cut her off, 'I suggest you all make any necessary preparations now and get some sleep. We leave in the morning.'

With that he spun on his heal and headed out of the Castle Ruins, unaware of the troubled looks his friends cast towards his retreating form.

*****

The tense and subdued atmosphere that permeated the airship the following morning could not have been more different from their original gathering on Big Owl. The constantly falling snow had long since eradicated any traces of the bloodshed that had occurred just forty-eight hours previously, but Kharg had still been unable to suppress a shudder as he had passed the place where it had happened.

As they took off, the group steeped in morose silence, Kharg stared through the airship windows with dark and vacant eyes. Though he remained outwardly calm, the former prince felt as though he were being consumed from the inside out by the turbulent emotions that raged within him. His mother had always told him never to kill without good reason, that even deimos had a right to live and that he should always stay his hand until he was sure the situation was truly hostile, but after watching as she was slaughtered without the slightest hint of provocation so shortly after Lloyd had been killed defending those he loved, he found he could no longer abide by these rules. The deimos had destroyed the people who had meant the most to him and by killing his mother, they had also stolen any chance he had at ever knowing anything about his father.

'Kharg,' Paulette spoke gently, flinching slightly at the emptiness in his face as he turned towards her, 'what are you thinking about?'

'Before she died...the last words my mother said to me were my father's name and...and Drakyr,' Kharg spoke, turning back towards the window, 'she never told me exactly how my father died, only that it happened on their journey together, but after what she said...I think he must have been killed by Drakyr, too.'

'Oh, Kharg...' his childhood friend sighed.

'Your parents too, Paulette. They were both killed by deimos. We can't let them get away with this. I want to build a safe world for humans to live in and if that means another species must be destroyed in order to achieve it, so be it.'

Before the red-head had a chance to reply, the airship lurched violently to the side, throwing them both to the ground.

'Kharg! It's the Dilzweld! We've been hit!' Ganz called from his position beside the auto-pilot.

'How bad is it?' Kharg questioned in return, attempting to pull himself to his feet.

'It's not good...we're going down! Everyone, brace yourselves!'

Kharg moved to cover Paulette as they began to descend at a sickening speed. Almost before he had registered what was happening, the high-pitched screech of tortured metal filled the former prince's ears as Big Owl came to a bone-jarring halt.

'Is everyone ok?' Kharg called out as he climbed unsteadily to his feet, pulling Paulette up with him.

'I'm alright!' Maru responded, sounding shaken but unhurt.

'Me too,' Ganz' voice swiftly followed.

'Lilia?' The blond man glanced around, his dark eyes searching for the girl.

'I'm here!' she responded, gingerly picking herself up from the ground.

'Good. Ganz, do you have any idea where we are?'

'We were flying over Asheeda Forest when they hit us. Don't worry, we've reached Aldrow, though it'll be a bit of a hike to reach Cathena.'

'Ok, if no-one's injured I suggest we make a move. We need to neutralise the threat from Dilzweld as soon as possible. Humans shouldn't be fighting humans, we should be working together to eliminate the deimos.'

'Agreed. Let's go, but be warned, Asheeda Forest is likely to be teeming with a breed of deimos known as Orcons, disgusting creatures, but highly dangerous,' Ganz informed them.

'If we run into any, I can assure you, they won't live long enough to regret it,' Kharg spat, eyes blazing.

It seemed painfully obvious to him now that his people would never be safe as long as the deimos inhabited their world. The responsibility for protecting his country had fallen to him and he would accept it willingly. He silently vowed that he would not rest until every last trace of the deimos, particularly the Drakyr whom had caused him so much suffering, had been wiped from the face of the planet. As he headed towards the exit, thoughts of destruction filling his unquiet mind, he failed to take in the looks of frightened concern his friends were busy exchanging.


	2. Illfated Introduction

Title: Ill-fated Introduction  
Warnings: Just about as A.U. as it gets...Based on what could have happened if Lady Nafia had been killed in Dragon Bone Valley and the twins encountered each other in Asheeda forest. Lots of violence, mental and physical torture, eventual yaoi and twincest ADULT MATERIAL!!!  
Summary: Darc goes to investigate reports of human activity in Asheeda Forest and gets more than he bargained for...  
A.N. I can only appologise for the horrible things I'm about to do to the characters, and trust me, it will be horrible. I came up with this five years ago and I'm using that as my excuse... I do it out of love, really I do. I just sometimes have a very unconventional way of showing my affection....The humans and deimos don't speak the same language in this. It makes more sense to me that way ^_~

Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me...it's probably just as well. I make no profit from this.

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Now that the blinding fury that had propelled him forward over the previous weeks had begun to fade into an altogether colder, clearer anger, Darc found himself reeling from the delayed shock of just how quickly his situation had changed. If anyone had informed him just a short while ago that he, a lowly slave and despised pariah, would become the leader of the Orcon tribe he would have laughed in their face. However, this was exactly the position he now found himself occupying. Although he knew he should be relieved that the misery and debasement of the last eight years of his life had finally come to an end, the path along which his mind currently wandered was dark.

As his father lay dying, before he had handed over the Wind Stone with no time left to explain to his son just what it's significance might be, he had bestowed upon him once again those mysterious words he had been hearing all his life, that he, born from a Drakyr and a human, was the only one who could 'save the deimos'. After his father had died and he had fallen swiftly into the hands of Geedo and eight torturous years of captivity, Windalf's dream had seemed ridiculous at best. He had considered himself weak; good for nothing but the ceaseless hard labour and abuse that Geedo had forced on him.

However, the unexpected events of a few weeks ago had caused his life to diverge on this new and unlikely path. Geedo had sold him to the Drakyr and once within their power they had torn his wings from his body in an attempt to get him to relinquish the wind stone. Mutilated and half mad from the pain, he had nonetheless forced himself to pursue his tormentors in order to prevent them from taking the only memento of his father that he possessed. On reaching them and discovering Densimo's betrayal, the previous leader of the Orcon tribe had proceeded to lift him by his throat before hurling him across the hard stone ground. As he lay there, drenched in his own blood and filled with a feverish delirium caused by the intensity of his pain, a deluge of rage and fury had suddenly washed over him.

The hatred and agony that threatened to consume him had instead exploded outwards and, barely aware of what he was doing, he had slain those who sought to degrade him. As he stood and observed the carnage he had caused through fever-bright eyes, his body now smeared with the blood of his fallen enemies as well as his own, realisation hit him with the force of a blow and the path he needed to follow finally became clear. He would unite the deimos using strength and fear, the only things they truly understood, before eliminating the humans who continued to encroach on their world. By doing this he would finally prove that he was one of them, deimos to the core, forcing them to accept him whilst simultaneously realising his father's dream.

There was a part of him that wished things didn't have to be this way, that he could achieve his father's vision while avoiding the death and bloodshed that would no doubt follow if he continued on the path he had decided to take, but he was finding it easier with each passing day to crush these traitorous thoughts as they arose. He was a deimos; this was the only way forward and any sign of weakness would not be tolerated, least of all his own.

Darc's thoughts were suddenly torn back to the present moment as another fierce wave of pain racked his body, emanating from the deep rents in his back that had yet to sufficiently heal.

'My Alfa, what troubles you?' the Lupine who had only recently pledged allegiance to him spoke up, no doubt noticing the look of torment on the half-Drakyr's face.

'It's nothing,' Darc answered gruffly, cursing himself for not keeping a better guard over his expression, 'come on, we have a lot to do if we're going to rid our land of humans. I need to find other strong deimos who'll follow me.'

'Darc, you're in pain,' Delma stated, narrowing her magenta eyes.

'I said it's nothing!' Darc turned on the Orcon girl, his face contorted into a vicious snarl.

He felt a wave of regret flood through him as he registered the fleeting look of shock and something that closely resembled hurt that flickered across the girl's face, but as the look transmuted into a sneer and he caught the words 'pathetic half-breed' muttered under her breath he angrily forced the feeling away. Delma and Volk were not his friends; they were merely strong and efficient tools to be made use of, something he was sure he would do well to remember.

'Darc!'

The half-deimos turned at the sound of his name as he reached the entrance to the settlement of Orcoth. The Orcon he had ordered to stand guard stood before him, a look of nervous excitement etched across his face.

'What?' Darc growled.

'I saw a strange light over Asheeda Forest! Something went down amongst the trees and there've been reports of humans in the area,' The larger male informed him eagerly.

'Humans!' Volk spat, his attention suddenly focused on the Orcon in front of him, 'Asheeda Forest is deimos territory, they will pay dearly for trespassing on our land!'

'Are you sure about this?' Darc narrowed his ruby eyes at the other deimos.

'I know what I saw, there's definitely something in the forest.'

'Hmm. I guess we'd better investigate,' the half-Drakyr spoke over his shoulder to his comrades before turning back to the Orcon, 'you'd better not be making things up! Stay here and make sure Orcoth is protected in my absence.'

'Yes, Sir!' the larger male enthused as the small band of deimos exited the settlement and set off in the direction of Asheeda forest.

******

It had taken them some hours to make the trek across to the forest and although he would never admit it, Darc was beginning to feel a little worse for wear. Gritting his teeth and focusing on the path in front of him, he tried not to dwell on the throbbing ache in his back. Now that the intensity of his anger was somewhat subdued and the feverish delirium caused by shock to his body had finally begun to wear off, the half-Drakyr was beginning to realise the full extent of the damage done to him. The forceful removal of his wings had not only left him with deep and painful lacerations that would take time to heal but had also thrown off his balance. Whilst he knew that this could be rectified over time and with practice, for now he was sure that it would prove a hindrance during the arduous battles that no doubt were to come. So far they had encountered only monsters, but experience had taught him that humans were an altogether more dangerous opponent.

'What the hell is that?' Delma's harsh voice questioned abruptly.

Tearing his eyes away from the ground, Darc looked up to see a hulking, metallic shape embedded amongst the trees. The immense construction stood out starkly from the otherwise organic environment and there was no doubt in his mind that this thing had been made by human hands. He watched in silent curiosity as Delma took a step closer to it.

'Keep back! I've seen these before, they rain down a fiery death from the sky! It's a human machine. Touch anything a human has created and misfortune is sure to befall you!' Volk cried, clamping one large, strong hand down on the Orcon girl's shoulder, preventing her from advancing any further.

'Get the hell off me!' Delma pulled away from the Lupine's grasp, 'what are you going on about now? Seriously, are you that scared of humans? It's just superstitious nonsense. I'm using a human weapon and where do you think Darc got that sword and armour, eh?'

'Darc! Are you really using something those despicable humans created?' Volk suddenly turned towards him.

'Yes, and if you want to keep your head on your shoulders you'll keep quiet! Why shouldn't I use it if it makes me stronger? Strength is everything to a deimos.'

To Darc's satisfaction, Volk fell silent and he was able to re-focus his attention on the metallic structure in front of him. Taking a tentative step towards it, Darc reached out his clawed hand and ran his fingers across the machine's surface. The smooth metal felt unnaturally cool despite the humid heat of the day, causing soft chills to run the length of the half-Drakyr's spine. Curiosity sufficiently piqued, Darc moved closer in order to carry out a more thorough inspection.

It was at this moment that the unmistakable clamouring of angry human voices rang out from behind him. Whipping around, Darc growled low in his throat as his eyes fell on the small band of humans standing a short distance away. They already seemed poised and ready for attack, the female swinging her weapon in threatening arcs whilst one of the males who was already smeared with the unmistakable black-red stain of blood was shouting something unintelligible as he drew his sword.

'Wretched humans! Death awaits you!' Volk cried as he raised his axe above his head and, without waiting for Darc's instructions, charged forward to meet their opponents.

'Prepare to die!' Delma snarled, closely following her Lupine comrade.

Darc gritted his teeth and attempted to subdue his rising anger. The humans were cunning and organised, usually having worked out a strategy prior to entering a battle and whilst he understood his allies' eagerness to rid their territory of intruders, the half-Drakyr could not help but feel infuriated that they had not waited for his orders. When the battle was over, he would have to remind them in no uncertain terms that they were his subordinates and he expected them to defer to his decisions in future.

However, as the blood-smeared human began his swift advance, Darc realised the time for planning had ended, leaving no choice but to let the battle commence. Drawing his own sword, the leader of the Orcon tribe rushed forward to join the fray. The otherwise silent forest was suddenly filled with the sound of snarls and clashing steel as the opposing sides came together with the force of a breaking wave. As he dodged the arrow intended for his abdomen, Darc heard Delma's muttered words and felt an intense burst of heat as she invoked the flaming arrow spell. He had time to note Volk grappling with the axe-wielding human before the other adult male was upon him.

As Darc furiously parried each of his opponent's elegant yet ferocious attacks, he began to realise just how formidable a foe the human he was battling was. As he bought his sword sweeping upwards in a fierce attempt to slice across the other male's chest, the human leapt nimbly away from him with a level of agility he had not witnessed in the species before. Growling, Darc spun around in preparation to continue his assault, only to be forced brutally backwards as the windslasher spell smashed into him, tearing his breath from his body. As the reality of what had just happened sunk in, Darc found he was unable to do anything other than stare in wide-eyed amazement at his approaching adversary. Never before had he heard of a human with the ability to utilize magic and what he had just witnessed had him temporarily rooted to the spot.

His stillness could not have lasted more than a couple of seconds, but it was enough. The human's sword was nothing but an indistinct blur as it slashed upwards towards him and, unprepared, Darc's own weapon spun out of his grasp. As he began to recite the words of his own spell in an attempt to regain the upper hand, the other male was upon him, knocking him fiercely to the ground and pinning him to the spot by bringing his foot down hard on Darc's torso. It was then that the half-Drakyr noticed the wild, empty blackness of his opponent's eyes and he felt his heart fall in his chest. The human he was fighting was filled with the very same overpowering hatred and fury that Darc himself had harnessed such a sort while before. The leader of the Orcon tribe knew only too well that once this fury was unleashed, there was only one way the battle could end.

As his adversary raised his sword above his head in preparation to deliver a mortal blow, Darc bought his arms up in a last desperate attempt to defend himself. When the explosion of pain he was expecting failed to materialise, the half-deimos cautiously lowered his arms in order to discover what exactly his opponent was doing. He had time to note the look of startled confusion that crossed the human's face before it quickly reconfigured into one of intense hatred. The world around him seemed to disintegrate in a blinding fulmination of pain as the male's fist crashed into the side of his head, black clouds rolling across his vision before consuming it completely as he lost consciousness.


	3. Dark Intentions

A.N. Finally, the next chapter is up! Sorry for the wait o_O I promise to be quicker with the next one (seeing as thats when the 'fun' begins) Feel free to leave reviews ^_^

* * *

The remainder of the journey to Cathena had proceeded relatively smoothly following their unexpected crash-landing in the forest. While Ganz had been correct in his estimation that they would encounter numerous Orcons during the course of their trek, each of these engagements had been bought to a swift and lethal close by Kharg's keen-edged blade. As the former prince continued to eliminate their opponents with ever-increasing ferocity, his friends' concern for his wellbeing steadily mounted.

Prior to his mother's untimely death, Kharg had always striven to let his morality guide him, only killing an enemy when there was no other option left and waiting to establish whether the situation was hostile before reaching for his sword. While he had taken pride in the skill behind his swordsmanship, he could not claim to have felt any particular love of bloodshed. Now however, as he proceeded to despatch the deimos they happened upon with an alarming alacrity, he found that each deadly slice of his blade cast a beam of illumination on the darkness inside him. Each new victory served to spur him onwards, giving him the strength to keep going despite the crushing grief that threatened to engulf him.

Once they had reached Cathena, Ganz had left the group in order to find the equipment needed to repair their damaged ship. Having agreed to rendezvous outside the arena once Big Owl had been restored to full working order, Kharg and the remainder of his friends had proceeded to seek out the delegates of the World Alliance.

Striding into the assembly room, a look of calculated self-assuredness painted across his blood-smeared face, Kharg stood calmly in front of the startled delegates and mentally prepared himself to win them over to his cause.

'This is an important political gathering, you can't just walk in here off the streets!' the Cathenian representative inveighed, his face tinged red with outrage, 'who are you and what are you doing here?'

'My name is Lord Kharg of Yewbell and I'm the official delegate of Nidellia. I'm here to voice the opinions of my nation and to escort this girl, Lilia, to your hearing. I believe you were expecting her,' Kharg answered promptly.

'That's right, we _have_ been expecting her,' the Milmarnian representative stepped forward, silencing her outraged confederate, 'but I was under the impression that Lady Nafia was the official delegate of Nidellia? Where is she?'

At the sound of his mother's name, the former prince felt his hands involuntarily ball into fists as an ache as sharp as the point of his sword shot through his body. He firmly clenched his jaw in an attempt to contain the tempest of emotions he felt brewing inside him before answering the woman's question.

'My mother is dead,' the blond intoned in a flat, empty voice, 'she was killed by Drakyr.'

'I'm so sorry to hear that,' the Milmarnian representative replied with sincerity, 'Lady Nafia was a great woman and an asset to your country. Now, I hope you'll forgive my abruptness but now that Lilia has arrived I propose that we continue with the hearing.'

'Of course,' the former prince conceded, thankful for the change of subject.

Kharg performed at his political best, his upbringing having shaped him into the perfect dignitary whilst the desire for vengeance that now burned inside him meant he was driven to succeed; he would ensure that the threat from Dilzweld was completely eliminated, leaving the way clear for humanity to unite and eradicate the deimos once and for all.

Although they had initially been met with opposition from some of the delegates, Kharg's steely determination and the dark fury that blazed behind his eyes meant that the vote soon tipped in their favour. Dilzweld were to be issued with a warning that any further acts of hostility would be met with force and if this warning was ignored, retaliation would be immediate.

'One last thing before we leave,' the former prince spoke hollowly once the action had been decided.

'Go on,' the Cathenian representative replied.

'Once Dilzweld has been neutralised, as Nidellia's official delegate I propose we hold a summit to discuss how we intend to deal with the increasing threat from the deimos. We've been sitting on our hands for far too long and too many lives have been lost. This needs to end and the safety of our people must be ensured.'

'The problem has indeed been in the forefront of many of our minds of late. Once the dispute with Dilzweld has been rectified, we'll meet again to discuss the issue,' the delegate nodded his ascent.

'Thank you. I suppose we ought to be on our way,' Kharg responded with courtesy.

As he turned to exit the assembly hall, his comrades following a short distance behind him, Kharg noted that their victory failed to alleviate any of the gnawing emptiness that his mother's death had left him with.

******

'Ok, are we ready to leave?' Kharg questioned once everyone was gathered outside the arena.

'The repairs have been made, we're good to go,' Ganz nodded.

'I...I've decided to stay here in Cathena for a while,' Lilia spoke up quietly, her eyes turned nervously towards the floor, 'I don't think Dilzweld will give up on me just like that and the World Alliance has offered me their protection.'

'You don't have to stay here. You're more than welcome to come back to Yewbell with us and I swear we'll do our best to defend you,' Kharg offered.

'Thank you, you've all done so much for me and I really am grateful, but I've caused you enough hardship as it is. I think it would be best if I stay here for now,' the girl replied.

'None of this was your fault, but I respect your decision,' Kharg responded courteously, 'you'll always be welcome in Nidellia if you change your mind, though.'

'Thank you,' Lilia nodded, 'and Kharg I...I'm so sorry for...'

'Well, we'd better get going,' the former prince cut her off abruptly, throwing her a vacant smile that failed to reach his eyes, 'take care of yourself, Lilia.'

With that remark left hanging between them, Kharg turned away from the startled girl and began to walk purposefully in the direction of the city gates, leaving his friends staring worriedly after him.

******

Kharg's thoughts had only grown darker during their return journey through the forest. He knew that his people were relying on him to provide them with a safe and prosperous future and he did not intend to fail them now. As long as there were deimos on Ragnoth, the lives of his countrymen would always be at risk and this was not something he was willing to endure. Kharg knew he had an immense task in front of him, the Defence Corps would have to be expanded and their training made more rigorous to ensure his men were prepared for what lay ahead, but he did not doubt that he could achieve it. He intended to launch a concentrated assault on the deimos, systematically hunting them down until not even a single one remained. Once Dilzweld was taken care of and he was able to submit his proposal to the World Alliance, he was hopeful that his plan could be globally enforced, finally creating a safe world for humans to live in.

'Kharg, look!' the sound of Paulette calling out to him dragged the former prince out of his malefic reverie.

Moving quickly in order to catch up with his friend, Kharg's attention was immediately captured by the hulking shape of their airship and the three distinctive figures that stood gathered around it.

'Deimos!' Kharg spat, a deluge of rage washing over him as he watched one of the creatures touching the side of the ship with its scaled hand, 'get the hell away from there! I hope you're ready to be slaughtered like the monstrous bastards you are!'

The former prince didn't waste another second as two of the deimos began to charge towards them. Swiftly unsheathing his blood-smeared sword, Kharg launched himself into battle, his mind filled with nothing but the intense blackness of his hatred. He was barely aware of what he was doing or what was going on around him, his body moving with a speed and fluidity he had never known he was capable of. Fuelled entirely by his blinding rage, Kharg ruthlessly engaged the remaining male deimos, his entire being focused solely on its destruction.

However, as his opponent lay sprawled across the ground beneath him, its arms flung across its face in a final bid to defend itself, Kharg was suddenly struck by a moment of clarity. Raising his sword above his head in preparation to deliver the final blow, the blond found his vision inadvertently snagging on the familiar patterning of the deimos' right arm; patterning that was identical to the former prince's own birthmark.

The blond was momentarily shocked into stillness as he stared down at the male he had pinned to the floor and, as he stood watching, the deimos slowly lowered its arms to reveal a face that seemed strangely familiar. As it peered cautiously up at him through guarded red eyes, Kharg felt the thunderclouds of fury begin to roll across his vision once more. Before they consumed him completely and without knowing exactly what compelled him to do it, he allowed his sword to drop to the ground and instead of decapitating it as he had originally intended, he drove his fist ferociously into the side of the deimos' head, it's body going limp as it lost consciousness.

******

As the battle drew to a close, the small band of humans began to re-group in order to ascertain whether they had sustained any injuries. While the Lupine they had encountered lay immobile on the ground and the Orcon female slumped against a nearby tree, pinned in place by the arrow that pierced her shoulder, the humans had emerged from the fight relatively unscathed. Casting their eyes away from the comatose deimos they had so recently defeated, the group watched in silent apprehension as Kharg stood unmoving beside his own opponent, his gaze resting on its prone form.

Kharg had no idea how long he had been standing there, motionlessly staring down at the unconscious figure of the deimos he had just vanquished. He had not even been aware he was doing it until he felt a hand fall gently on his shoulder.

'Are...are you ok?' Paulette questioned, her voice thick with concern as she cautiously studied her friend.

'I'm fine,' the blond muttered, absently shrugging her hand away.

'Are you sure? You don't seem fine,' the red-head persisted, attempting to hide the hurt in her voice as she withdrew from him.

'Look at this,' he pointedly ignored her, nudging the fallen deimos roughly with his foot, 'its wearing human armour...and the sword it was using, it probably took these things from the body of one of its victims, don't you think?'

'I don't know, Kharg. Come on, let's just get back to Yewbell,' Paulette spoke softly.

'It can't be allowed to get away with this. I'm taking these back,' he muttered in response.

The former prince dropped to his knees and began to fumble with the straps which secured the deimos' armour in place. Eyes wide with desperation, Paulette turned back towards their companions and motioned for someone to come over and help her.

'What're you doing?' Maru questioned in confusion as he cautiously approached his friend.

Kharg failed to respond as he rolled the deimos onto its front and began to pull the armour away. The former prince's eyes widened almost imperceptibly in surprise as he took in the jagged, raw-looking scars that were etched deep into the male's back.

'Wings,' the blond's voice came out in a whisper as he ran his finger roughly along one of the savage rents, 'I think this is some kind of Drakyr.'

'Hey, look at this!' Maru's voice rang out suddenly, 'don't you have one like this, Kharg?'

'Hmm?' the former prince glanced up distractedly, his forehead creasing slightly in irritation.

'I said, don't you have a stone like this?' Maru repeated, holding out a translucent green object on the palm of his hand.

'Where did you get that?' Kharg's voice suddenly became sharp and focused as he patted the pocket of his shorts, feeling for the Wind Stone and finding it present.

'On the ground here, just beside the deimos. I guess he must've dropped it when you knocked him down,' the boy shrugged.

The blond's face noticeably darkened as he took the faintly luminous object out of Maru's outstretched hand while pulling his own stone from his pocket. Cautiously bringing the two halves into alignment, Kharg's eyes narrowed dangerously on finding they fit together as perfectly as though they had never been apart.

'Right, that's it. We're taking this with us,' Kharg stated darkly, causing both Maru and Paulette to jump as he took a firm hold of the unconscious deimos and abruptly swung it over his shoulder.

'Just put that thing down!' Paulette pleaded, 'what exactly are you planning on doing with it? It's not like it can tell you where it got the Wind Stone from. Either kill it or leave it here with the others, Kharg, please!'

'Just leave him,' Ganz spoke firmly, placing a reassuring hand on the girl's arm as the former prince steadfastly ignored her, 'he'll get through this eventually.'

'But...' the red-head began to interject.

'Trust me. There's no point in interfering now. We just need to let him work through his grief,' the ex-mercenary insisted.

'I hope you're right,' Paulette sighed doubtfully.

The small band of humans watched in frustrated concern as their friend boarded the airship, the comatose deimos still slung limply across his shoulder.


	4. Captivity

Warnings: Violence, mental and physical torture, eventual yaoi and twincest ADULT MATERIAL!!!  
Summary: Darc wakes up to find himself in a less-than equitable situation...

A.N. As I've said before, I really _do _do it out of love, I just have a very strange way of showing my affection...it sadly doesn't pay to be my favorite character! Like I said, I wrote this 5 years ago and I'm using that as my excuse o_O this is where the um...fun? begins...

Disclaimer: the characters do not belong to me...it's probably just as well o_O I make no profit from this

* * *

Darc groaned softly as consciousness gradually began to return to him. While the temptation to continue clinging to the comforting blackness of oblivion was strong, the insistent pounding of his head and the dull ache that pulsed through his body prevented him from doing so. Exhaling sharply, the half-Drakyr attempted to make sense of his fractured thoughts; he had no recollection of where he was or how he had come to be there.

Reluctantly, Darc cracked open one bleary eye in the hope that a glance at his surroundings would enlighten him as to his whereabouts. He sighed in frustration on finding himself lying face-down on a non-descript stone floor; if he wanted to discover exactly where he was he was going to have to move, and at that moment in time he sincerely doubted whether he was capable of it.

Gritting his teeth and ignoring his better judgement, the half-deimos endeavoured to roll onto his side. The movement immediately caused blinding fireworks of pain to explode behind his eyes, forcing him to bite down hard on his lower lip in order to stop himself from crying out. Ignoring the fierce waves of nausea that washed over him, Darc swept his ruby gaze across his surroundings. He grunted in annoyance upon finding that his exertions had only afforded him a view of a darkened, stone-walled room that failed to awaken in him any memory of how he had come to be there. Closing his eyes once more, he allowed himself to roll back onto his front, his cheek coming to rest on the cold, damp ground beneath him.

However, on executing this movement Darc felt something tug familiarly at his throat and the unmistakable sound of metal scraping against stone rang through his ears. A dark wave of resignation washed over him as he realised where he was; he was lying on the floor of Geedo's dungeon, clearly recovering from a beating he thankfully could not remember. Sighing heavily, he attempted to ignore the dull tendrils of pain that insistently tugged at his body in an effort to reclaim the comforting darkness of sleep; he had no way of knowing just how long it would be before his owner required his services again and he intended to get as much rest as he could before that time came.

As his concerted effort caused the throbbing ache that ran through him to recede and he began to drift towards unconsciousness, one sudden thought cut through his mind with the piercing clarity of a knife.

'_Geedo is dead. I killed her.' _

Darc's crimson eyes immediately snapped open as a feeling of creeping dread washed over him, all thoughts of sleep dispersing in an instant. Disregarding the painful protest of his body, the half-deimos pulled himself swiftly to his feet, his scaled hand reaching instinctively for his throat and grasping at the cold, metallic collar he found there. The sensation of coolness against his skin immediately caused chills to race the length of his spine, the familiar feeling causing his scattered memories to return to him in a sweeping rush; he had been with his recently-acquired comrades in Asheeda Forest, investigating a report of human activity. They had located a hulking metallic construction embedded amongst the trees, had instigated an engagement with a band of humans and...

'Delma? Volk? Where the hell are you?' Darc snarled, whipping around in an attempt to locate his missing comrades.

A quick scan of the room informed him that he was alone, his Drakyr heritage allowing him to determine the shape of his surroundings despite the oppressive darkness that permeated the place. The room was small, stone-walled and damp, leading him to suspect he was somewhere underground, yet there were no other distinguishing features from which he could glean any further information. However, as his keen gaze swept the room a second time, his eyes snagged on the shape of a door embedded in the opposite wall and, clenching his jaw determinedly, he began to move towards it.

He was still at least two feet away from the aperture before something pulled insistently at his throat, impeding any further progress. Growling fiercely, Darc's hands once again flew to the collar encircling his neck, his fingers moving along its length until they came into contact with the heavy chain that was preventing him from approaching the doorway. A deep feeling of overwhelming fury, tinged at the edges with the brittle yet subdued sensation of panic, began to flood though the half-Drakyr as he realised that he was trapped.

When he had slain his former owner, Darc had sworn that he would never allow himself to succumb to the will of another again. He had not wrested his freedom from the hands of his enemies only to have it torn away by the humans he had come to despise. He could only guess at what his captors intended to do with him, but he would be damned before he acceded to it. He would find a way out of this place, or die trying.

Reaching automatically for the bag containing his spirit stones, Darc's breath came out in a hiss as his hands met with empty air. Glancing down, he finally became aware that his armour and possessions were missing, eyes widening in shock as he realised the Wind Stone, his father's memento, had been removed along with everything else.

With a roar of intense anger, Darc wrapped both hands around the chain at his neck and attempted to rip it from the wall. He could feel the insidious tendrils of desperation begin to wind themselves irrevocably through his mind as each ferocious tug brought him no closer to freeing himself.

When his hands had been rubbed raw from the intensity of his exertions yet the length of metal remained as firmly embedded in the wall as though he had never attempted to remove it, the half-Drakyr finally gave up. His vision blurry from the fierce pounding of his head and the growing sense of panic that now flooded through him, Darc turned once more to the door at the far side of the room. Snarling viciously, he moved rapidly towards it, the metal of the collar cutting sharply into his flesh as he strained against it.

'Worthless human bastards!' he shouted, voice thick with malice, 'you're nothing but cowards! Get down here and face me! Give me back the Wind Stone and let me go or I swear I'll tear you limb from limb!'

All rational thought fled the half-Drakyr as a deluge of rage and fear engulfed him. With thoughts of the fate of his comrades and the dark imaginings of what lay in store for him spiralling through his mind, Darc continued to hurl insults and threats at his invisible enemies in the blind hope of provoking an opportunity to confront them and thereby instigate his escape. His furious outbursts only grew in intensity despite the wall of oppressive silence he was greeted with.

******

Darc had no way of knowing how much time had elapsed since he had first awoken. When his throat had eventually become too raw to continue shouting and his desperate, continued attempts to remove the chain from the wall had resulted only in his fingers becoming scraped and bloodied, the half-Drakyr had resumed his prone position on the floor. Finding himself drifting in and out of consciousness as he oscillated between anticipatory alertness and overwhelming exhaustion, the half-deimos found it impossible to determine whether hours or even days had passed.

Lying with his face pressed against the cold, stone floor, his mind distracted by the dark and somewhat delirious thoughts that currently consumed him, he failed to register the sound of the wooden door creaking conspicuously on its hinges. It was not until the distinct reverberation of footfalls on stone reached his ears that his attention was snapped back into the present moment.

Dragging himself to his feet, Darc whipped round only to find himself momentarily blinded by the harshness of the light that now poured in through the open doorway. As he began to grow accustomed to the brightness, he was able to make out the silhouette of a man standing a short distance away from him.

'So,' Darc intoned, his voice rough and broken after the hours he had spent shouting, his muscles tensing automatically in preparation for battle 'you've finally worked up the courage to face me.'

The figure muttered something that, despite being unintelligible, somehow sounded vaguely familiar as it took a few measured steps towards him. As the human moved into focus and Darc recognised the fair-haired male who had overpowered him during their earlier engagement, he found he was no longer able to contain the coiled tension that resided within him, all pretence of calm quiescence swiftly deserting him.

Snarling, he lunged furiously towards his adversary. The man was fast, darting backwards as swiftly as though he had anticipated the half-deimos' action. The chain snapped tight behind him, preventing Darc from advancing any further but not before he felt the satisfying sensation of his claws racking across soft human flesh. His lips curled upwards in a sneer as the other male stood clutching his wounded arm.

'Weakling human! Get over here before...'

Darc's words were abruptly cut off as a bolt of energy burst from the man and hit him full in the chest, sending him sprawling across the ground. Before he had a chance to collect himself, the human was upon him, his hand curling fiercely through Darc's hair before dragging him roughly across the floor. White-hot stars of pain exploded in front of the half-deimos' eyes as his adversary smashed his face into the wall with ferocious force, his mouth filling with the metallic tang of blood as the action was repeated.

He could not prevent himself from crying out as his arm was pulled up sharply behind his back, his body still pressed hard against the cold stone wall. The human's breath was uncomfortably hot against his skin as he shouted something into his ear, something that for a moment seemed to solidify into a recognisable sentence before its meaning slipped away from him. When Darc failed to respond he was rewarded with a sharp jerk on his arm, bringing it into an impossible angle as another flurry of almost-intelligible words poured from the other male's mouth.

'Get the hell off me!' Darc managed to choke out through gritted teeth, head spinning dangerously from the force of his multiple collisions with the wall.

This was evidently not the response the human wished to elicit as, with a roar of anger, he brutally forced the half-Drakyr away from the wall before flinging him harshly to the ground. Groaning, Darc unsteadily pulled himself onto his hands and knees, desperately attempting to gather the strength he needed to retaliate. However, as he made to drag himself to his feet his adversary advanced on him once more, kicking him hard in the stomach and causing him to crumple to the floor.

Darc just had time to draw in a ragged, gasping breath before the other male launched into him. The human continued to shout shapeless words whilst kicking him ferociously again and again, not allowing the half-Drakyr the space he needed to pull himself away. A cry of pain was wrenched from his body and reverberated through the small stone room, the sickening crack of bone filling his ears as the male's foot connected sharply with his ribs. Giving up his futile endeavours to pull himself from the floor and fight back, the half-deimos curled in on himself in a desperate attempt to lessen the damage caused by his captor's blows.

Just as his vision began to fade to black and the sharp intensity of the pain he was feeling started to dull, the other male finally ceased his attack. Darc's mind was already drifting when the human yanked his head up savagely by the horn and crouched down so that his face was mere millimetres away from the Drakyr's own. The intense hatred that burned in his adversary's eyes was unmistakable despite his rapidly fading vision and, with his mind caught somewhere between waking and oblivion, Darc could have sworn the words the human hissed out were as clear and concrete as though they spoke the same language. Those dark words echoed coldly through his head as unconsciousness finally claimed him:

'_You're going to die down here.'_

*******

Hours later Darc awoke with a start, crimson eyes flying open as freezing water hit his body. His gaze immediately fell on the fair-haired human standing over him, one hand on his hip and the other clutching a now-empty pail. The half-Drakyr attempted to pull himself to his knees, his face contorting into a vicious snarl, but the moment he flexed his muscles in preparation for movement his entire body was overcome by a crippling agony that cut through him like a knife. The human's blank expression quickly transmuted into a malicious sneer and Darc realised the pain he was experiencing must be clearly etched across his face.

'What do you want from me?' Darc spat, forcing the words out with difficulty through his bruised and swollen lips.

The other male answered him in a wave of the elaborate human language that, for all it's strangeness, struck a chord of recognition within the half-Drakyr. As the man continued to speak, a sudden memory sprung unbidden into Darc's mind and the reason for the faint familiarity caused by the human's words suddenly became clear.

The memory was of his father teaching him the human language. He recalled questioning the necessity of learning a language that seemed so needlessly complicated and was used only by their enemies. His father had told him that there would come a time when deimos and humans would be able to co-exist peacefully and being able to communicate with them would be useful to him one day. Upon his father's death and the enslavement that had quickly followed he had swiftly buried his knowledge of human speech, not wanting to give the deimos who despised him any further ammunition or to acknowledge the mixed blood that was running through his veins.

Struggling to his knees, Darc attempted to ignore the fierce waves of pain that crashed over him as he looked up at the man who had caused him these injuries. A bitter smile spread across his face as he recalled his father's words; there could be no peaceful co-existence between humans and deimos, that much was perfectly clear to him now.

On seeing the half-deimos' smile the human's own expression immediately darkened and before Darc could register what was happening, his head was snapped back with the force of the blow that landed across his face. He heard the human's shouted words despite the ringing in his ears and this time he was sure that some of them made sense to him.

Growling low in his throat, Darc glared up at his attacker defiantly whilst attempting not to shiver as the icy water the human had thrown over him began to soak into his skin. He was a deimos; the death of his owner and the others who had sought to degrade him marked the moment he had cast off the last vestiges of his hated humanity. He was not about to acknowledge any link to his human heritage, least of all by accepting the fact that he could understand their language. He swore to himself that he would make every attempt to prevent any further comprehension of the human's words from returning to him.

Pushing these thoughts aside, Darc's eyes narrowed in suspicion as the malign sneer returned to the other male's face. Crouching down, his captor lifted something from the floor that the half-Drakyr had previously failed to notice. His ruby gaze moved swiftly away from the human's visage in order to focus on what he now held in his hand. Darc's eyes came to rest on what appeared to be a long length of braided leather attached to a handle and, snarling as he attempted to force back the vicious undulations of pain which rolled through his body, he pushed himself to his feet with the intention of ripping the object from the other male's grasp.

He had barely taken a step towards his adversary when the man began to whirl the length of leather in a brutal arc above his head before snapping his arm forward, causing a loud crack to fill Darc's ears as the flexible end of the whip struck him hard across the face. He bit down firmly on his lower lip to stop himself from crying out as a sensation similar to the slash of a blade cut through his already damaged flesh. Bringing his hand up to his cheek, he had time to note the warm feeling of blood flowing across his fingers before the whip came down on him again, this time cutting sharply across his exposed chest.

With a cry of rage, Darc launched himself at his opponent, attempting to ignore the ruthless explosion of red pain as the leather cut into him a third time. The human's eyes perceptibly widened and he made to dart away from the half-deimos but was unable to evade his attack. Darc charged heavily into the other male, the force of the collision sending them both sprawling across the floor. He recovered swiftly, moving to pin his opponent down. However, the man reacted with lightning reflexes, bringing both knees to his chest and kicking out fiercely as Darc leaned over him, sending the already-weakened deimos skidding backwards across the ground.

Slowed down by the injuries he had already received, the half-Drakyr was unable to pull himself to his feet before his captor reached him. With a look as dark as thunder etched across his face, the human delivered two sharp kicks to Darc's already damaged ribs. With his breath knocked from his body, the half-deimos found himself unable to react as his opponent rolled him forcibly onto his front. He experienced barely a moment's reprieve before the sharp crack of the whip rang out from behind him and an intense slicing sensation burned through his back.

He desperately attempted to drag himself onto his hands and knees in order to disarm his attacker only for the human to bring his foot down harshly onto his back, sending him crashing to the floor and pinning him in place. All thoughts were immediately driven from his mind, forced out by the intensity of the ache that filled him each time the other male brought the length of leather snapping down across his skin.

The torment seemed to last an eternity before he finally heard the sound of the whip dropping to the floor. Seconds later, he felt the human's hand wrap tightly around his neck before he was dragged roughly to his feet and slammed backwards into the wall, his head cracking fiercely against the stone behind him.

Opening eyes that were blurry with pain, Darc found himself looking into his captor's face. The man was regarding him coldly through dark, empty eyes that caused the half-Drakyr to shudder despite himself.

'Get your stinking human hands off me!' Darc hissed through gritted teeth, forcing himself to meet the other male's gaze.

The man only continued to watch him, a speculative look beginning to steal across his face. However, the look remained there for mere moments before his lip curled upwards in an unmistakable expression of disgust as he swiftly released his grip on the half-Drakyr's neck, allowing him to drop to the ground.

Darc remained where he was, unmoving as he listened to the sound of his tormentor's footsteps receding across the room. It was not until the illumination from the open doorway disappeared and he was left in darkness that the half-deimos finally allowed himself to look up. Ascertaining that the human had indeed gone, he glanced down at his naked torso in order to inspect the extent of the damage done to him.

His body was a mass of bruises punctuated by the bright crimson streaks of blood that continued to flow from the gashes left by the whip. Running his fingers across his ribs, the tentative application of pressure allowed him to conclude that at least two were broken. His whole body was one throbbing mass of pain, his ability to think dampened by the rush of agony which continuously spread through him. He could feel the warm wetness of blood running down his back where the whip had cut into his flesh and the waves of dizziness he was currently afflicted by lead him to think he might be concussed.

Though he had no way of knowing just how long he had there, he suspected it had been at least two days since he had first awoke to find himself in the stone room. He felt weak from hunger, thirst and the beatings he had taken and now violent shivers were beginning to rack his body thanks to the dousing he had received. He had no idea where his comrades were or even if they were still alive and was beginning to doubt whether he was capable of escaping given his current condition. With this bleak assessment of his situation running through his mind, Darc allowed his aching head to drop down into his hands as the dark waves of despair he had been attempting to hold back began to course ruthlessly through him.


	5. Desolation of the Soul

Warnings: **NON-CON, TWINCEST, YAOI, VIOLENCE!! MENTAL AND PHYSICAL TORMENT! THIS CHAPTER IS DARK! IF YOU DON'T LIKE THIS KIND OF THING I STRONGLY SUGGEST YOU READ SOMETHING ELSE! I HAVE PLENTY OF CONSENSUAL STUFF IF THAT'S WHAT YOU'RE LOOKING FOR!!**

Summery: Kharg's hatred for the deimos drive him to new depths of depravity and he struggles with feelings of self loathing and confusion.

A.N. I **PROMISE** that things will get better for both twins, as I've said time and time again, I do this out of love, honestly. They'll be ok, just bare with me.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this fic (just as well, I'm sure you'll agree!). I make no profit from this.

* * *

Kharg watched detachedly through distant eyes as the people around him laughed and talked excitedly. He understood that there was much to be happy about; their recent efforts to increase Defence Corpse activity were beginning to come to fruition and that days' patrol of the area surrounding Yewbell had resulted in them despatching a group of six Drakyr, bringing him a step closer to realising his dream of eradicating the deimos and ensuring that Ragnoth was a safe place for humans to reside in. However, while he managed to smile his practiced smile and join in the conversation when it was required of him, the former prince could not help but feel distracted, preoccupied as he was with an altogether darker desire.

Night had fallen since he and the other members of the Defence Corpse had returned to Yewbell and many of the people gathered at the Inn were now happily intoxicated. Kharg estimated that he had dutifully taken his place among them for a good few hours now and decided that enough time had elapsed to allow him to leave without raising people's concerns.

It had been just over a month since Lady Nafia's demise and while he felt he had managed to remain strong and provide his people with the support and comfort they needed during this dark time, he knew they would naturally be concerned for him and too much time spent in solitude was sure to raise their suspicions. This was something he could not abide; his people needed to see him as their rock, someone they could rely on despite any tragedy that may befall them and this meant his continued presence among them was required no matter how broken and empty he felt.

Smiling broadly and informing the people gathered around him that it had been a long day, he was tired and eager to rid himself of his battle-bloodied clothes, the blond said his goodbyes and got to his feet with the intention of making his exit. However, as he moved in the direction of the door someone took a firm grip on his arm, halting any further progress. Turning, Kharg found himself looking up into Duncan's face, the older male's eyes glassy from inebriation.

'Kharg,' the man spoke, his words slightly slurred, 'You have no idea how much we appreciate what you're doing for us. You've turned out to be exactly the kind of leader your mother would have wanted you to be. Lady Nafia would be so proud of you.'

Duncan's words affected the former prince as though he had taken a blow to the face, the sound of his mother's name intensifying the sharp ache inside him that refused to fade.

'Thanks,' he forced out through gritted teeth, his lips composed into an empty smile that failed to illuminate the dark void behind his eyes, 'enjoy the rest of the night, Duncan.'

Pulling his arm away with a little more force than he had originally intended to use, the blond man moved swiftly in the direction of the door before heading out into the night-darkened streets.

*******

Kharg drew in a deep, steadying breath as the cool night air hit his face, taking a moment to fight back the multitude of turbulent emotions that continued to battle within him. Dark images rolled unbidden through his mind; the bright crimson of his mother's blood against the brilliant whiteness of the snow, the monstrous, gaping wound that ran the length of her throat, her rapidly cooling body as she lay dead and lifeless in his arms. The deimos had taken so much from him, his mentor and farther figure, the love and guidance of his mother and any chance he had at discovering anything about his biological father.

As these bitter thoughts washed over him, the dark fire of hate flared brightly behind his eyes, jaw setting in grim determination as he began to make his way towards his house. His mind was set so firmly on his goal, the one thing that kept him going despite the waves of fierce emotion that continuously threatened to overtake him, that he failed to notice the sound of footfalls steadily gaining ground behind him.

It was not until a hand fell lightly on his shoulder that he realised he was not alone. Whirling round, the look of unchecked fury still etched across his visage, the blond came face-to-face with the startled countenance of his childhood friend.

'I'm...I'm sorry I...I didn't mean to creep up on you,' the girl stuttered, her dark eyes worriedly searching his face.

'...No. I'm sorry, Paulette,' Kharg responded at length, making a concerted effort to regain control of the darkness that was mounting within him whilst throwing the red-head a vacant smile, 'I didn't mean to startle you.'

'Don't worry about me,' she replied, eyes never leaving the blond's face, 'I...I just wanted to make sure you were ok.'

'I'm fine,' he attempted to laugh dismissively, not realising how hollow and forced it sounded 'I'm just really tired, it's been a long day.'

Paulette watched him apprehensively for a moment, clearly torn between speaking her mind and letting the subject drop. As someone who knew Kharg well, it was all too obvious to her that things were still far from ok.

'Kharg...' the girl began, taking a deep breath before plunging on, 'I know you're not going home to rest.'

'What're you talking about?' Kharg queried, the empty smile still frozen on his face despite the noticeable tensing of his muscles that his friend's statement caused.

'It's...it's that thing!' the red-head cried, suddenly unable to contain herself, 'ever since you brought it here you...Kharg, I understand how much you hate the deimos, they killed my father too, but keeping that Drakyr or whatever it is around so you can...can't you just kill it and have done with it? Protecting your people is one thing, but it's not healthy to spend so much time torturing another living thing. What would Lady Nafia say?'

'Paulette, my mother can't say anything, the Drakyr destroyed her ability to guide me when they took her life. This is my business and I'd appreciate it if you stayed out of it,' the former prince retorted, the sudden dip in his voice sounding far more threatening than any level of shouting could have done.

'Kharg, please,' the girl continued, adopting a somewhat calmer tone, 'I'm just concerned for you. Wont you let me...'

'I'm going home,' the blond cut her off sharply, 'I suggest you do the same.'

Without another word, Kharg turned swiftly on his heel and continued walking in the direction of his house, leaving his bemused friend staring mournfully after him.

******

The roar of unwanted thoughts inside Kharg's head had ascended to deafening levels by the time he stepped inside the house. Whilst a part of him recognised that Paulette was correct, what he was doing could hardly be classed as right or just, the louder, more dominant thought within him was that these sentiments only applied to humans; deimos were baser than animals and deserved nothing less than to feel the extent of his wrath.

Besides, ever since his mother's brutal slaying he had been filled with a yawning chasm of darkness that could only be alleviated by one thing, albeit temporarily. Each time his blade pierced deimos flesh he felt the crushing weight of the emptiness inside him lift, each grimace of pain he saw etched across their monstrous faces giving him the strength he needed to carry on.

Kharg moved swiftly through the house whilst these thoughts clamoured through his mind, coming to a stop only when he reached the door that led into the cellar. A dark thrill of anticipation ran the length of his spine as he slid the key from his pocket and into the lock, pausing briefly to lift the slim rattan cane that was propped against the wall; Duncan's words had stoked the fire of his hatred and he was now in desperate need of a release.

Descending the steps, the former prince reached the second door and pushed it open with a resounding crash, his pulse-rate quickening as the first intense waves of anger began to flood through him. It was a moment before his eyes became accustomed to the darkness, the light from the stairway casting only scant illumination into the damp stone room. Gradually, the vague outline slumped against the far wall began to solidify into a more definite shape and he was able to discern the form of the deimos, it's back pressed up against the stone behind it and its' knees drawn up to its' chest.

Kharg stood contemplating his captive, Paulette's concerned words still fresh in his mind. He knew she was right, he ought to have killed it long before now, yet despite this knowledge there was something unnameable preventing him from doing so. He had tried to rationalise his desire to keep it alive with thoughts of the missing half of the Wind Stone. One of the scant pieces of information his mother had let slip concerning his father was that the two of them had divided the stone, each keeping half, yet somehow this deimos had come to possess it. He could not shake off the thought that it must know something about his father's death and it filled him fury that he could not wrench the knowledge from the creature's lips.

There was also the matter of the birthmark on the deimos' arm, identical to the former princes' own, and the disconcerting sense of familiarity he felt when he looked into its face. For reasons he was unable to comprehend, these details only served to fuel his anger; each time his gaze fell upon its' features he was filled with abhorrence and an inexplicable feeling of dread that went beyond his loathing of the species as a whole, something which simultaneously repelled yet intrigued him.

Dark eyes narrowing as he attempted to shake off these unsettling thoughts, Kharg strode purposefully towards the motionless figure. The deimos remained still, failing to look up or acknowledge the blond's presence despite the fact that it was no doubt aware of his proximity. This served only to cause the fierce waves of hatred to crest inside Kharg's body; he wanted a reaction, he wanted the creature's fear to wash over him and eradicate his pain.

'Filthy deimos bastard! Look at me!' Kharg snarled, kicking his captive fiercely in the side.

The deimos emitted a low growl as the former prince's foot connected sharply with its' flesh, its' ruby eyes fixing on the blond's face with a look of concentrated hatred. Kharg's lips curled upwards in an expression of rage, the audacity of the Drakyr causing his own intense loathing to surge through him and he found he was no longer able to contain it.

With a roar of anger, the former prince grabbed the deimos roughly by its' throat, its' back scraping harshly against the wall as he dragged it to its feet. Its' left hand immediately flew upwards and wrapped around Kharg's wrist in an attempt to loosen his grasp, its' razor-sharp claws digging firmly into the blond male's flesh.

'Don't you dare touch me!' Kharg cried, eyes blazing with fury as he pulled sharply away from it.

The former prince glanced down at his wrist, the bright crimson drops of blood welling up through his broken flesh only causing his vehemence to increase. Gritting his teeth, he drew back his fist before bringing it crashing down into the Drakyr's face, a dark smile of satisfaction curling his lips as his captive grunted in pain.

'You're going to regret that,' he sneered, reaching down to retrieve the rattan cane from where it had dropped to the ground.

The deimos' eyes visibly widened with understanding as they alighted on the cane in Kharg's hand and, with a vicious snarl, it swiftly pushed away from the wall before hurling itself at the other male. The deimos was fast, but the former prince anticipated its' move with uncanny accuracy, darting quickly to the side before it had the chance to crash into him. Kharg grabbed the chain attached to its' collar as it passed him, yanking it fiercely back towards him before spinning the creature around and slamming it face-first against the wall.

Twisting his hand into the deimos' hair, the former prince roughly snapped its' head back, a thrill of some dark and unnameable emotion rushing through him as it growled in pain. With slow deliberation he brought his lips close enough to its' ear that it could feel the heat of his breath against its' skin

'You should know by now that the more you struggle, the worse this is going to be for you,' Kharg murmured darkly.

In one fluid motion, the blond released his hold on the Drakyr's hair and forced his hand firmly between the savage-looking scars that were all that remained of its' wings, effectively pinning it to the wall. It began to struggle and shout something incoherent in its' primitive language just as the former prince brought the supple cane snapping down across its' already-lacerated flesh. He felt something inexplicably close to pleasure mixing with the darkness of his anger as he watched the rattan cut fierce red lines into his captive's skin.

As Kharg increased the intensity of the lashes and the cane broke through the damaged surface of the deimos' flesh, bright drops of sanguine blood began to run the length of its' ravaged back. A grim smile of gratification lit the former prince's face as fierce cries of pain were finally wrenched from the creature's throat, each one flooding through him as though they were beams of light illuminating the darkness that resided within him. Through witnessing the agony of a member of the species he held responsible for the desolation of his world, Kharg was able to experience a lessening of the crushing grief that pierced through him as acutely as the blade of a knife.

Finally, he allowed the cane to drop to the ground, his breath coming out in ragged gasps with the intensity of his exertions. He swiftly removed his hand from the deimos' back and shoved it roughly to the floor.

With a malign sneer contorting his usually composed and vacant face, the blond knelt down beside his captive and took a firm hold of its' jaw, his fingers digging mercilessly into the deimos' flesh as he jerked its' head upwards.

'Regret it now, don't you, you worthless piece of shit,' Kharg snarled, their faces so close they were almost touching.

The deimos' lip curled up in what looked like disgust and, before the former prince had a chance to react, it spat full in his face. The blond quickly recoiled in abhorrence, releasing his grip on the Drakyr's jaw in order to wipe his hand across his features. With a furious roar, the deimos sprang forward, knocking the distracted prince to the floor. Within moments it was straddling him, one arm pinned beneath its' leg as it brought its fist crashing down with ferocious force into Kharg's face.

The blond was momentarily stunned as the blinding fulmination of pain caused by the deimos' blow tore through him, temporarily slowing him down. However, as it drew back it's scaled hand in order to unleash a second strike, Kharg's awareness came flooding back to him, his own hand shooting out and grabbing a fistful of the deimos' hair. Snapping his arm backwards, the former prince brought his captive's head smashing down onto the cold stone ground, giving him time to roll its' dazed body away from him and jump to his feet before it recovered from the blow.

Snarling, the other male leaped up after him and lashed out fiercely with its' left hand, its' claws drawing an agonised cry from the former prince as they sliced through the material of his shirt and into the skin beneath. As his opponent made to draw back its' arm a second time, Kharg shoved it fiercely in the chest, sending it sprawling backwards across the floor.

He swiftly followed the creature down and, flipping it onto its' front, placed his knee firmly in the small of its' blood-smeared back. Dark eyes lit from behind with the intense light of loathing, Kharg wrapped one hand around its' horn before smashing its' face repeatedly against the ground until he felt its' muscles soften beneath him.

The fury that filled the former prince in that moment was so intense he was almost blinded, the hatred he felt for the deimos race burning through his veins with the deadly ferocity of wildfire. He wanted nothing more than to see his captive's spirit broken, to look into its' face and see that he had wiped out the spark of defiant rage he'd noticed every time it looked at him.

There were no concrete thoughts running through Kharg's mind as he stepped away from the groaning body of the deimos, only emotions so intense that he was powerless to control them. As he hurriedly undid the clasps of his belt and allowed his shorts to drop to the floor, he felt as though he was being consumed from the inside out by rage and hatred combined with an overwhelming need to dominate the Drakyr in front of him; it was this need for power and retribution that drove the actions that followed.

The deimos grunted in half-hearted protest but put up no further resistance as he took it firmly by the horn and dragged it across the ground. Pulling it roughly to its' feet, Kharg shoved his captive up against the wall. It merely groaned dazedly, clearly unaware of what the former prince was about to do as he spat into the palm of his hand before rubbing it over the erect length of his cock. Hitching up the deimos' skirt with one hand, Kharg forced it's legs apart with his foot, the rough push of his erection meeting with the resistance of clenched muscles that were unprepared for the invasion to come.

Dark thrills rushed through the former prince as his eyes grazed the flushed flesh of his cock pressed tight against his captive's hole, the emotions that filled him pushing beyond the boundaries of hatred; vengeance and desire bound together to create something so much darker than the sum of their parts. His lips curled upwards in a sneer of victory as the deimos cried out and began to struggle beneath him, unsure whether the note of panic he detected in its voice was imagined or real, but the notion that his actions were provoking fear drove him onwards nonetheless.

Grunting with effort, Kharg forced his way inside the deimos with one fierce thrust, barely feeling the taut hotness of its' body as the scream that was ripped from its' throat washed over him. Ignoring its' useless attempts to fight him off, weakened as it was from their earlier battle combined with the beatings it was constantly subjected to, the blond began to snap his hips hard and fast, one hand clutching the deimos' waist hard enough to bruise while the other slid mercilessly across the broken flesh of its back.

The sound of the Drakyr's breath catching sharply in its' throat sent shivers of something like pleasure rolling through Kharg's body as his fierce exertions ruthlessly tore the creature's insides, the warm rush of blood smoothing the former prince's passage. He quickly lost himself in the rhythm of his rocking hips, the blazing darkness of his emotions combined with the pain and humiliation that radiated from deimos obliterating the blood-drenched images that haunted him.

As he continued to grind into his captive with all the force at his disposal, a desolate groan escaped from its' lips and its' legs buckled underneath it. An expression of vague irritation passed across Kharg's face as he quickly pulled out, allowing the deimos to drop heavily to the ground. Without allowing it a moment's reprieve, the blond swiftly fell to his knees and, wrapping one arm firmly around its' narrow waist, he dragged the other male's hips up towards him. With one solid push he was back inside it, the strangled cry it emitted as he slammed into it filling him with malefic satisfaction.

On every outwards stroke, the blond withdrew completely before pulling the deimos sharply towards him to meet the peak of each fierce thrust, dark eyes glittering brightly with the tumultuous emotions that burned behind them as he watched his cock slide in and out of his captive's battered body. Tightening his hold on its' damaged flesh, he ground his hips mercilessly forward, feeling the creature open up beneath him with each savage stoke. Kharg's movements gradually increased in speed and urgency as the waves of vengeful desire spread through him, driving into it right to the hilt and forcing its' breath from its' body.

Finally, as his inimical ardour reached a blinding crescendo inside him, the former prince had just enough time to withdraw before the bright arc of his come shot out and spattered across the deimos' ravaged back. As the waves of dark passion that had previously filled him began to fade, he pushed his captive fiercely away from him and watched it slump brokenly across the cold, stone ground. With the crushing emptiness that pervaded him momentarily dispersed, Kharg turned away from the limp body of the deimos with a dismissive sneer and reached for his discarded shorts.

As he hurriedly dragged on his clothes, the former prince listened to the broken, staggered breathing of the creature lying on the ground behind him. Refastening the buckles of his belt, he quickly turned back towards his captive with a look of undisguised irritation painted across his face, fully intending to cause it further harm in an effort to shut it up. However, as his dark eyes fell on the figure at his feet a sudden flash of horror struck him like a slap across the face. The deimos had moved onto its' side and was now curled pitifully in on itself, its' skirt still hitched up around it's waist and its' jaw clenched tight in a clear effort to force back the pain it was no doubt suffering.

For one brief moment, Kharg's mind cleared and was filled with an intense loathing for what he had done; surely no living thing deserved the constant abuse and debasement he had inflicted on this creature. Almost as soon as these thoughts formulated in his mind they were gone again, Kharg quickly shaking them off with the reminder that such sentiments did not apply to deimos, they were nothing but monsters and therefore deserving only of hatred and scorn. Lips curling upwards in a vicious snarl, the blond quickly advanced on the motionless body of the Drakyr.

'Disgusting monster!' Kharg spat, delivering one fierce kick to the deimos' side before turning swiftly on his heal and exiting the cellar without a backwards glance.

********

Later that night, Kharg stood staring into the bathroom mirror, intently studying the reflected image he saw there. A sickening feeling of dread began to seep through him as he realised he barely recognised himself anymore; the dark circles beneath his eyes were as intense as bruises and his vacuous gaze would not have gone amiss on the face of a dead man. Shaking his head in attempt to rid himself of these disturbing thoughts, he desperately tried to remind himself of who he was and what was driving him onwards.

He had made a pledge to protect his people, to ensure that they could live a life free from the horror and emptiness that he was now cursed with. He needed to keep going for them, no matter how broken and desolate he felt; his mother had taught him that the needs of others must always come first and he was not about to break the habit of a lifetime, he would not let them down. Yet even as these words formed in his mind, he thought back to what Paulette had said earlier in the evening:

'_Protecting your people is one thing, but it's not healthy to spend so much time torturing another living thing. What would Lady Nafia say?'_

A small voice deep inside him insidiously whispered that his actions had been twisted and wrong, that nothing deserved the kind of abuse he was inflicting on his captive. Had his mother not taught him that even deimos had the right to live and violence should only ever be used as a last resort? Yet she had imparted these words to him before she had been mindlessly slain without provocation at the hands of the Drakyr, surely this rendered her sentiments void? Kharg quickly raised his hands to his head and pressed his fingers fiercely against his temples, desperately trying to quell the confusion the roiled within him. The deimos had destroyed the people he loved and robbed him of his sense of self, they brutally murdered humans every day; for this they surely deserved to be eliminated and no amount of torture could be enough to rectify what they had done to him.

With a furious cry, Kharg pulled back his fist and launched it at the reflection of his face, watching as the glass shattered and the image became fragmented and broken. He swiftly turned away, heading towards the bedroom with the bearing of a somnambulist, not even noticing the blood that dripped from his lacerated hand.

* * *

**_A.N: As I said, I promise things will get better for both of them, just bare with me. For anyone who prefers Darc as seme, I'm working on two of those right now to balance things out a bit ^_^_**


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